


Burden of the Survivors

by Crystalessences



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bounty Hunter Reader, Bounty Hunting, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, kinda slow-burn, smuggler reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalessences/pseuds/Crystalessences
Summary: Mando works alone- except for when he absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

When you had given the Mandalorian your commlink info you had not thought the stoic man would actually use it. He had a reputation to uphold after all- he couldn’t be seen willingly working with another bounty hunter. You could respect that; the Guild was cutthroat and there never seemed to be enough credits or jobs to go around these days. The New Republic was a blessing and a curse to those trying to make a living in the Outer Rim. Your regular contacts were coming up short on good jobs and everything Karga was offering wasn’t worth the cost of fuel. It all had you wondering if you should take up running with Tillis’s crew again, the cuts were always fair and at least you weren’t burning credits on your own fuel.

Yet despite your initial beliefs, Mando had called, and he’d called with an offer for a job. They were high rollers from the underworld, apparently. Nothing you had not worked before. The first job you had worked with Mando on had been an under the table job from Karga as well. You allowed yourself the slightest bit of pride that after how well you two had worked together, Mando felt you would be a useful addition on this job.

You jumped on the offer. Whatever job Mando had taken had to be worth a decent stack of credits if he was willing to go with an even split. Hopefully, this would be enough to hold you over for a while, maybe pay for a few fixes to your ship while you were at it. The navicomputer could use an update, and there was the leak in the cooling lines that could probably use a proper fix instead of your last patch job… but you were getting ahead of yourself. Mando had asked you to meet him at his ship just outside of town on Navarro, which was convenient considering you had been laying over on the backwater volcanic planet after your last round of bounties. Karga may be cagey but at least he paid you what you were owed in the end.

Mando was waiting for you, leaning against the side of the Razor Crest, looking as much the stoic and hardened warrior as ever when you arrived. Though he had upgraded a bit since you last saw him.

“Looking spiffy Mando! Is that a new pauldron I see?”

He shrugs, pushing off the Razor Crest, “maybe.”

Man of few words, some things never change.

“You mentioned before that we didn’t have much to go off of. What do you know?” Hitching your bag of gear up your shoulder you follow Mando up into the Crest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been on Mando’s ship, but it amazed you every time you boarded how he managed to keep such a relic up and running. You would not be surprised if it cost him a fortune in repair costs over the years. Sure, your ship wasn’t a spring chicken either, but it had been built within your lifetime.

“Tracking fob.” He quickly fishes the device out of his belt, flashing it at you briefly. “Last known position and age.”

“Wait, not even a chain code?” That was just common courtesy in this line of work, and it kept mix-ups to a minimum. “Just the last four digits?”

Mando nods before clambering up the ladder to the cockpit leaving you stunned. _Who exactly were you working for and who were they after?_

After ditching your bag in the hull you follow Mando up to the cockpit. “How trustworthy is this client of yours?”

You lean against the doorway, watching him program the ancient navicomputer. “It’s underworld, what do you expect?”

“At least some minimal assurances,” you throw back, “I don’t want to end up a prisoner of the New Republic for the rest of my days if I can’t help it.”

“The chit came through Karga.”

Well, that was the definition of minimally reassuring.

“But no puck?”

Mando shakes his head, or rather, his bucket.

“Well, this will be interesting.”

“Arvala-7, can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” You’re sitting in the co-pilots chair with your boots propped up against the dash, fiddling with one your rifle sights as Mando attempts to pull planetary info up on his navicomputer.

Your partners huff of displeasure filters through his modulator, you can imagine he’s rolling his eyes behind the visor. Over the course of working together you had managed to pick up on a handful of the man’s cues, his body language was fairly expressive, and irritation with you was one you were aptly familiar with. It had been obvious from your first meeting that the Mandalorian was all work and no play. So, your occasional flippant remarks were not always received well. You were by no means trying to agitate the bounty hunter- you had better self-preservation skills than that- but you were trying to lighten the mood a bit. Two sticks in the mud didn’t make for an entertaining partnership.

Even after a few smacks to the computer Mando cannot seem to pull up the data he wants. His fists clench and unclench rhythmically, the creak of his leather gloves filling the silent cockpit. This one was wound way too tight. You wondered what mandalorians did to relax and unwind, and how exactly could you get him to do that before you landed?

“You’ve got the tracking fob, we aren’t completely screwed, if that’s what you’re all upset about, Mando.”

The helmet snaps around, his black t-visor staring unblinking into your soul.

_Maybe that was not the best button to push._

“I’ll- ah, go get my stuff together.” You wince at the crack in your voice but gather up your blaster parts before preparing to shimmy back down into the cargo hold. You were a bounty hunter, same as him. His attitude should not unnerve you like it did. He was human like you after all- or at least you assumed he was- one faceless man should not affect you so strongly. You were better than this.

_Master trained you better than this._

“Coming into atmo,” Mando shouts down from the cockpit, “may want to hold onto something.”

The ship lurches forward, throwing you into the back wall. “Thanks for the warning,” you grumble, latching onto the refresher door to stay upright.

Mando comes in quick, the Razor Crest touching down shortly after entering the atmosphere. Moments later the helmeted man is down the ladder, amban sniper rifle in hand and already heading down the ramp. Always in such a rush. The Mandalorian really had no clue as to how to stop and assess a situation or take a moment to breathe.

You scramble over to your bag of gear, assembling one of your own blaster rifles without having to look. It was all second nature now; you know every weapon in your stash like the back of your hand. As you slide the newly fixed sight into place a roar echoes through the ship followed by a loud curse. Down the ramp in seconds your blaster is trained on the approaching creature, ignoring Mando with his arm trapped in the jaw of another felled creature.

The tadpole-shaped beast falls before you pull the trigger, sliding in next to Mando with a bright red electro stun dart sticking out of its side. You let out a sigh as Mando groans, freeing his arm. At least your partner in crime was not out for the count yet.

A third creature approaches, this one saddled and ridden by an aging ugnaught wielding what you can assume was responsible for the stun darts. You lower your blaster, hoping that there would be no quarrel after he seemingly saved Mando.

“Thank you.” Mando’s panting as he stands, his arm clutched tight to his chest.

The ugnaught nods before looking back between you two. “You are bounty hunters.”

“Yes.”

“I will help you.”

You shrug at Mando, if he wanted to assist you with this odd bounty you had qualms.

“I have spoken.”

Kuiil had been more than accommodating to you both at his moisture farm. Offering up his bed to you for the night and sharing his dinner and a warm cup of tea with you both after the sunlight finally fell below the horizon. You jumped at the offer for any food that was not freeze-dried rations or protein bars. Mando on the other hand stiffened when the ugnaught passed him the meal.

“You can use the bedroom to eat, Mando.”

This was not the first time you had run into this problem while working with the Mandalorian. He never took the helmet off around you, not even in the safety of his ship, not to stop and eat while you were drifting along in hyperspace, or to fix up wounds after a particularly nasty fight with a quarry. You wondered if he even took it off to sleep when you were on board with him.

It was not as if you did not understand the draw of a helmet. The lifestyle of the faceless. You own tactical mask offers a small sense of anonymity, bringing some comfort after years of running from your past, but you were not unnaturally attached to it. Whatever tentative relationship you had with Mando; you were comfortable enough to take it off around him. You could eat in his presence. The mask did not inhibit your job or your lifestyle. While it had been ages since you had been in contact with mandalorians-other than the faceless and nameless Mando- you did have shadowy memories of those you had met taking off their helmets in the presence of others. Not that you had dared to ask about it. Your first few meetings had been tense enough and you liked to think you were smart enough to not insult the beskar clad warrior who walked around armed to the teeth.

Kuiil did not ask until Mando had settled into the other room. “He does not remove his helmet in the presence of others?”

“For as long as I’ve known him,” you nod.

“And how long have you known him?”

That was a good question. How many years had it been since you worked that job with Tillis’s crew that introduced you two?

“Four standard years now, maybe?” You ponder, “but we’ve only been working together for about two.”

He nods, looking thoughtful, “like a Mandalorian warrior of old.”

“I suppose,” you shrug.

“You do not agree with his choice?”

“Oh no, my opinions have nothing to do with it. Can’t say it appeals to me, but I respect the restraint it would take to wear a helmet all of your life.”

Kuiil nods before pottering off, cleaning up his small cooking station. You cannot help but smile, the ugnaught reminds you of someone but you cannot recall exactly who. They are just echoes of memories now, a childhood long gone, but something about Kuiil’s wise demeanor picks at them.

Mando returns moments later, shaking you from your melancholy as he takes a seat next to you.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

_What kind of job exactly had Mando gotten for you two?_

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

You gape at the ugnaught, unsure if his honesty was all that helpful now.

“Well then I don’t know if I want your help,” Mando scoffs.

Kuiil shakes his head, “you do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“Encampment?” Who in the galaxy would have an encampment all the way out here and how to Kuiil know about it?

He nods but divulges no further details.

“What’s your cut?”

“Half.”

Your head whips around, Mando had promised you half the cut already, that is why you had agreed to come in the first place.

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep.”

“No. Half the blurrg you helped capture.”

You left out the breath you did not realize you had been holding, gaze softening. The blurrg would not be an issue. “I can assure you Mando has no use for a blurrg.”

The helmet nods, “you can keep them both.”

“No. You need them. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

Mando sounds unconvinced, “I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

You did not happen to know how to ride a blurrg either, but you decided it would be best for everyone’s health to not mention it as the Mandalorian struggled the next morning to even stay on the creature. Mando had insisted on letting you attempt to ride first. Kuiil had kindly walked you through how to greet the beast and the best way to mount. You had struggled a bit, the tallest point on the blurrg’s back was nearly a head taller than you and required some interesting moves to get to but after some coaching you finally managed to get the hang of it. It was smooth sailing from there. They reacted to the reins about the same as most other animals and their walking rhythm was not too difficult to adjust to. After Kuiil seems satisfied with your progress and let Mando into the ring you thought maybe this job would not be all that bad.

Yet as you watched Mando fly off the blurrg’s back for the umpteenth you decided you had called that much too soon. For a man who always walked with such swagger you did allow yourself to enjoy the scene. Just a little.

Even the patient Kuiil was becoming frustrated with Mando’s slow learning curve.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet.”

That would never happen.

Mando’s shoulders stiffen, “perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.”

Kuiil shakes his head, “this is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

You try, you really do, but all your willpower combined at the moment is not enough to contain the laugh that bubbles up in your chest. “Ha! They’ve got the right idea.”

Mando’s helmet tilts back just a fraction. He’s rolling his eyes at you.

Kuiil chuckles softly at your side while you stick your tongue out at the bounty hunter. He blatantly ignores you, going in for another attempt at the blurrg. It ends the same of the others, Mando flat on his back in the dust.

You understand he’s frustrated, Mando’s never been the patient type, and just wants to complete the job and get back to working alone. A wound up, frustrated Mandalorian was never a good combo. Your hand hovers over the blaster in your thigh holster as he stalks towards Kuiil, just in case.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps at the ugnaught. “Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

“You are a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.”

Kuiil’s jab at his ancestry is enough to get Mando to try again. You look on as he approaches the blurrg, arms outstretched, murmuring calming words as he goes to pat the creature between its eyes. You would almost describe the scene as gentle. Not a word you’d have ever used to describe the helmeted man in the past. Where had this Mando been hiding all this time?

When you spot the compound in the distance the worries begin to creep up again. You wonder who exactly you were after and what Karga’s underground client wanted with them. People don’t just build fortified compounds on backwater, nearly uninhabited outer rim planets for no reason.

Kuiil points to the structure as the three of you come to a stop, “that is where you’ll find your quarry.”

Mando attempts to give Kuiil a pouch of credits. It was the least he deserved for all the help he’d given you. The ugnaught turns it down.

“Please. You deserve this.”

“Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.”

“Then why did you guide us here?” you ask.

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they are gone.”

Mando turns to Kuiil, “then why do you help?”

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you two will make quick work of it. Then there will be peace again.” The ugnaught guides his blurrg around, ready to make the return trip, “I have spoken.”

You and Mando sat for a moment, watching him ride away in silence.

For peace then.


	2. Chapter 2

When Vero found you, you were nothing but a pickpocket on the lower-level streets of Coruscant-the byproduct of the horrors of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire. You were nearing sixteen and beginning to lose your touch. When you were younger-and smaller-it was easier to weave through crowds and avoid attention. Puberty and a growth spurt made it much more difficult for the teenage you to blend in. You made it work, you had to if you wanted to get by, but it took twice as much work to get folks to look the other way. Ever observant Vero caught on quick but said you had potential, just not as a street thief. The alabaster skinned theelin approached you with a job, a job that paid more than you could scrounge up in two weeks selling your stolen treasures. All you had to do was deliver a small parcel to a pilot friend of his at a docking station a few levels up without getting caught by the city guard before the pilot was scheduled to leave in two hours. It seemed easy enough and you desperately needed the credits. The last thing on your mind was what was in the package you carried. You knew better than to stick your nose where it did not belong, especially when you were getting paid. That decision changed your life.

The job was a test to see if you were capable and trustworthy enough to bring on for a real job as a runner, and you passed with flying colors. Vero took you under his wing and had you running smuggled goods and other products all over Coruscant. It was a reckless job, you knew that-even as a child-but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly at a time in your life when you had forgotten what that was like. You were one of many street kids on Coruscant that had to turn to life in the underworld to get by, but you thank the Maker you ended up with the one crew on Coruscant that had some small sense of morals.

Vero worked for Shan Tillis, who had grown up on the streets of Corellia himself. Shan was sympathetic, smuggling had been his way out of the gutter, and he offered you that same opportunity. It had not taken long for Shan and the others to realize you were too smart and too quick on your feet to just move goods, that you and your brain could be used elsewhere. So, they taught you. Kom and Redarr, Shan’s lead muscle heads, taught you how to fight and how to fight dirty. Sola bought you your first proper viroblade (you’d nicked one years ago but it was made for hands much larger than yours so you’d always been rather clumsy with it) and taught you every trick in the book she knew, every weak spot on the body, how to wound but not kill and where to bleed someone out the fastest. Her lessons were always your favorite. Tala taught you how to pilot every kind of ship you could get your hands on, and how to hotwire a landspeeder- Vero was not thrilled when he discovered that lesson had been performed on his precious baby.

Everything that made you into the infamous bounty hunter you were now had been taught to you by that crew. Every cautious tick had been drilled into you by Kom and Vero. Redarr had schooled you on blasters, made you practice in-between jobs on how to take them apart and put them back together with your eyes closed. Zena taught you how to read people and how to know when a deal was about to go south.

Shan imparted you with the most practical wisdom of them all. How to know when you’re fucked.

This job seems pretty fucked to you.

The Mandalorian is silent as the two of you settle on the ridge above the compound. Scope out, he looks over the cluster of buildings. Even from a distance you’ve already counted ten nikto out and about, and you can safely assume they’re all heavily armed.

You tighten the various straps and holsters on your person before slipping your tactical mask into place. The contraption covers the lower half of your face and has always been more for the intimidation factor than much else. Redarr had gifted it to you all those years ago as more of joke than practical gear but you’d grown attached. Between the mask and its voice modulator, your hood and dark, nondescript clothes you could remained relatively anonymous when you wanted to, which was most of the time.

“If we come along the east side I think I can make it up to the roof without being seen, provide you with a little more cover.” You did always prefer the higher ground.

Mando nods, continuing to scan the scene, “there’s two on the northwest corner you’ll have to manage.”

Your scoff crackles through the modulator, “they won’t be an issue.”

He grunts before his head snaps back towards the edge of the compound, “shit. Bounty droid.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whip out your own scope, focusing in on where Mando was watching. Sure enough, you spot an IG unit bounty droid making its way up to the group of nikto lingering outside.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”

You roll your eyes as the shooting starts. Droids had to have figured out by now it was never that easy. If it was, anyone with a blaster could join the guild.

The droid has a handle on the gunfight, but you groan as you watch the compound go into lockdown, all the blast doors slam shut before the last shot is fired.

“Droids.” Mando snaps as he stands, one hand clenched around the hilt of a blaster.

You jump up, following behind him. Again, with the acting first, thinking second.

As you approach the encampment Mando jerks his head up, “you take the topside.”

“Gladly.”

You scramble up the side of the building with relative ease, there are plenty of odd pipes and vents that make convenient grips as you haul yourself and up over the lip of the roof. When the droid had ruined any chance at a surprise attack, you’d lost sight of the two guards on the roof. You keep your rifle aimed in their last known direction as you settle onto your stomach, ready to cover Mando as needed.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset,” the droid repeats.

_Maker they really have no learning curve._

“IG unit! Stand down!”

The bounty droid has split second reaction times, shooting at what you can safely assume is Mando when he groans from somewhere down below and out of view. “We’re in the Guild!”

“So I suggest you stand down before you take a bolt to the brains, droid.”

Your quip draws the droid’s attention to your vantage point on the roof.

“You are Guild members? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” Mando grumbles. “So much for the element of surprise.”

That was a kriffing understatement.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

You have to restrain your eye rolling to keep monitoring the roofline.

“I have a suggestion.”

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

How many people was he going to offer to share your credits with? This was beginning to get out of hand.

“This is acceptable.”

Well considering how much Mando hated droid he at least knew how to manage them considerably well.

“Great. Now let’s regroup, out of harm’s way, and form a plan.”

You were sorely doubting that the droid was capable of forming a decent plan or following whatever you and Mando came up with, but it was worth a shot considering the situation had become even more fucked thanks to him.

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Is this really the time?” You shout down at the pair.

Mando seems to have the same idea, “can we talk about this later?”

“I require an answer if I am to proceed-”

An orange head pops into view on the roof across from you, “we’ve got company!”

The nikto takes a shot at the droid, “oh, no. Alert. Alert. Alert.”

Whole lot of help this one was. You land a headshot just as the doors of the compound slide open, more soldiers swarming out, blasters drawn.

“Let’s go!” Mando dives for cover and the droid follows after.

Your spot affords you a decent line of sight into the courtyard but there’s more of them then you thought there would be out in the middle of nowhere guarding who knows what you were after. It takes you picking off three of them before they realize you’re shooting at them from above. There’s a flurry of shouting and pointing in your direction and Mando makes a run for the main set of blast doors at the back of the courtyard. You were going to have friends on the roof soon. Lucky you.

Rolling back you jump to your feet, taking a couple pot shots into the courtyard as you make for the far end of the roof. The droid is a decent shot, covering Mando’s mad dash while you focus on the nikto popping up across the roof. One hauls himself over the edge to your left, making a swipe at yours leg with his blaster. The loud crunch of your boot to his skull cuts through the blaster fire around you as the body falls into courtyard. Gross. Two more appear out of thin air, their shots barely missing your head. Losing your blaster you duck and roll, knocking both over as you draw a viroblade from your thigh holster. Neither have time to react before you’re on them, each taking one clean slice to the neck.

Mando and the IG unit have made it to the main door as you duck behind some ventilation equipment at the northwest corner of the building. You appear to have control of the roof for now, but you can see the soldiers in the courtyard beginning to regroup. They have Mando and the bounty droid pinned. Shit. You can hear Mando’s modulated shouts from below but you can’t quite make out what he’s going on about. Hopefully he’s chewing out the dumbass droid who go you into this mess.

The IG unit steps out again, laying out a spread of blaster fire that doesn’t seem to do much. The nikto have plenty of coverage behind debris and the series of pillars lining the courtyard. Their numbers also seem to be steadily growing. Just how many of them were set up out here? Who needed this many bodyguards? It was nearly a small army. The IG unit cannot keep up with the incoming blaster fire, even with your help from above.

Your stomach drops as you catch sight of another incoming nikto on a hover blaster at the encampment entrance. You were all fucked. All you can do is hope Mando’s found good cover down there as you drop to your stomach, bracing behind the ventilation unit. The nikto lets it rip, covering the area with a spray of bolts. Most sound like they’re striking below you, focused on where you assume Mando and the droid are hiding.

Then as suddenly as it started the gun stops. Poking your head out you watch as the nikto is flung backwards and Mando yanks the blaster to him. You thank the Maker for whatever good fortune he earned for that to work. It takes only moments for Mando to swing the blaster around and mow down the rest of the small army.

“Well done,” the IG unit cuts through the eerie silence following the blaster fire. “I will disengage self-destruct initiative.”

“Wait, you guys can self-destruct?” Seemed a bit counterintuitive.

Mando’s visor snaps to where you’re hanging over the edge of the roof, looking for a spot to climb down. He wordlessly offers you a hand and you toss your pack and blaster down to him. Its not too high up so you simply ease over the edge and drop to the ground, ignoring the harsh jolt to your knees.

“Manufactures protocol dictates I cannot be captured; thus I have a self-destruct initiative.”

So the droid could have killed you all if had deemed the situation too risky. Great. You’re glad you hadn’t been aware of that during the shootout.

Mando helps the droid back to its feet. “You know, you’re not so bad. For a droid.”

Had hell frozen over? Mando was as droid adverse as they got, and now he was complimenting one? The universe must be ending.

“Agreed.”

“That blaster hit looks nasty. You okay?”

“Running a quick diagnostic… it has missed my central wiring harness.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

Mando glances back to you, “good?”

“Never better,” you grin. This could have gone significantly worse, so you had no room to complain at the moment.

“Well, now we just need to get the door open.”

The way Mando’s helmet whips back to the large blaster makes you groan. There were easier, less messy ways to go about things. You don’t attempt to talk the hunter out of it, he most likely wouldn’t listen to you anyways. It almost looks like he has fun shooting out the blast door until in collapses inwards.

You all take tentative steps inside the compound. One head appears around a far corner to the right. Mando’s quick draw has him downed before anyone blinks. “Anyone else?”

As if any survivors were going to offer themselves up to be shot.

“I’ll clear the west side,” you offer and Mando nods before heading off with the bounty droid in the opposite direction.

An unnerving silence settles over you as you stalk down the halls of the mysterious compound. The small army camped here had been prepared and well supplied. There are crates upon crates of food stuffs, weapons and ammunition. Some places are nearly packed floor to ceiling with it. What exactly was going on out here? How did they get all this out here in the middle of nowhere?

You worry your necklace pendant with one hand, an unconscious gesture you have yet to train yourself out of. Something was not right about this job, or at least more than normal. Over the years your own morals had morphed to accommodate your line of work. You worked for the guild and were often paid by unsavory individuals, but that was what you did to survive, and you refused to let that get to you. This however was picking at an old wound, long forgotten.

Another shot echoes through the compound and you find yourself racing back towards Mando and the droid, blaster held at the ready. Swinging around a corner you find Mando standing over a small floating pod, the bounty droid smoking out of its “head” on the floor. Maybe he didn’t want to split the bounty after all.

“Mando?” Your voice seems to cut through whatever trance the hunter was under, head snapping back towards you. “What happened?”

His shoulders drop, the tension seeming to fall away at your appearance. “He was going to kill the bounty.”

“I thought you said the client specified they wanted it alive if at all possible.”

Mando nods, “they did say that.”

That gnawing sense of dreads returns. Stepping up next to Mando you glance down into the pod-which appears to be functioning as some kind of traveling pram-and are greeted with wide dark eyes and pointy green ears.

_Oh Maker no…_


End file.
